A Match Made in Heaven
by ProudFangirl
Summary: Dean's job has always been to protect the people that he loves. With Cas' fall and Sam's sickness, he feels like he's failing to do that. A conversation with the former angel reveals that Dean's not the only one struggling with his responsibilities. Cas had a job, too, and Dean had no idea. Set after 8x23. Non-slash.


**This is just a little something that has been floating around in my brain and I thought I'd share with you all. It may not completely mesh with the promos that we've seen for season 9, but I would love for a scene like this to happen between these two, so I wrote it anyway...**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them... Just playing!

"Cas?"

Dean softly rapped his knuckle against the cracked door, peeking through the sliver of light that came from within. He nudged the wood with the toe of his boot, causing it to swing inward with a gentle creak until it bumped lightly against the wall. Dean's eyes immediately landed on the slumped form of his friend, who'd made no acknowledgement of his entrance.

Dean stood in the doorway for a moment, observing the former angel with concern. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, back hunched and hands clasped in front of him. His elbows were planted firmly on his knees and his head hung towards the floor, eyes fixed on some invisible target between his bare feet. Dean recognized the posture instantly. He'd been there a few times himself, and he hated seeing Cas there. It was defeat. Cas looked truly defeated. And more shockingly, he looked _human_.

That image hit Dean harder than he thought it would. The last few days had been undeniably confusing and difficult and goddamn _life-changing_ for Cas after the loss of his grace, and if Dean was being honest with himself, he was worried. Really worried. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? What could he say to make this better?

Dean allowed his shoulders to slump just barely, feeling the heavy burden that he carried increase by a few pounds. It was his responsibility to watch out for his family, but he'd been so damn useless lately. He couldn't help Sam with the trials. It had been torture to stand on the sidelines as his little brother ran himself into the ground trying to close the gates of Hell. He was still recovering, and he was still really sick. Dean shouldn't have allowed him to end up that way in the first place. All he could do now was make sure that Sam ate and slept and showered until he got stronger. And Cas… Cas was family, too, damn it. And Dean had failed to protect him, as well.

Dean cleared his throat quietly, hoping that the man would at least look at him. "Hey. You hungry?"

To his surprise, Cas actually raised his head to meet Dean's gaze, as if realizing for the first time that he had company. However, it was only a moment before he shook his head and looked downwards once more. "No. Thank you."

Dean wasn't going to give up so easily. The man had barely eaten anything in the past two days, and Dean was worried that he was going to keel over if he didn't get something in his stomach.

"You sure?" he pressed casually, taking a few more steps into the extra bedroom and folding his arms across his chest. "I've been told I make a mean cheeseburger. Seriously, man, flavor orgasm," he boasted, hoping to entice his friend into a substantial meal.

"I'm not hungry."

_You don't even know what hungry feels like_, Dean found himself thinking, but he fought the urge to blab the words out loud and went with something a little more tender. "Look, you're not tuned in to your human body yet," he reminded, studying the man's pale face. "You've got to eat something or you're gonna get sick. How about half a sandwich at least?"

Cas' head snapped up, and Dean almost took a step backwards at the intense heat contrasting sharply against the icy blue background.

"Dean, I said no! I don't need your help."

The words were spat out angrily, harsh and biting as they hit Dean's ears, and his heart dropped into his stomach, leaving an empty hole in his chest.

He quickly shook himself of his initial surprise, immediately clearing his face of any hurt that may have flashed across his features. He gave a curt nod, pulling his lips into the most forced smile that he'd ever given. Normally he wouldn't let someone talk to him like that. Normally he'd yell back, because Dean Winchester always had the last word. But damn… that hit him where it hurt. Besides, this was a shitty situation, and Dean couldn't possibly understand what his friend was dealing with. There was no telling if they'd be able to restore his grace. At this point, Cas was human. And he'd remain human until he died a very human death.

"Okay," Dean forced out, recognizing that he was not welcome at the moment. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll be around." He made a move towards the door, but was stopped by a quiet voice.

"Dean, wait."

He turned to meet Cas' gaze, easily picking up on the apology there. Dean almost looked away. The dude may have lost his supernatural abilities, but his stare still felt as though it could pierce through flesh straight to the soul beneath. Dean didn't like it. There were some things that he wanted to keep hidden.

"I'm sorry," Cas said sincerely, eyebrows furrowed slightly, confused at his own anger.

Dean shrugged, uncomfortable. "It's okay, man, I get it. Things have been rough."

Cas shook his head, refusing to let it go. "No. Well, yes, they have," he agreed. "But I shouldn't have said that. You were trying to help, and I thank you. But I'm fine."

Dean sighed internally, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. That word got tossed around way too often in the Winchester way of life, and now it seemed to have seeped into the vocabularies of those around them. It was their go-to when they didn't want to talk about something. Like "_Hey, that's a lot of blood. You good?" "Yeah, I'm fine."_ Or _"I don't know if this'll work." "Don't worry, it'll be fine." _And then there was his personal favorite: _"How was Hell?" "It was fine."_

Dean walked forward, taking a seat next to Cas on the bed and slouching down, mirroring his friend's defeated pose. When Dean spoke, he kept his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Look, Cas, I know you're not okay," he said. He let out a deep breath through gritted teeth and wrung his hands in his lap. "And to be honest, I'm not either. I'm barely keeping it together here," he admitted softly, hating himself for the weakness. He wasn't supposed to do this. He wasn't supposed to let people know when he felt like things were out of control. But for some reason that he didn't completely understand, Cas made him feel like it was okay to let go for a moment. Like he could relinquish control for at least a short time and things would be taken care of. After all, Cas had rescued him from The Pit. He'd found Dean in his weakest moment, when his body was bloody and his spirit broken. This was nothing compared to that.

Dean shook his head, allowing his frustration to seep into his voice. "All this shit's been going down, and I haven't been able to stop any of it. I mean, Sam practically killed himself with those trials." He swallowed hard, the thought of his little brother so broken and sick making his chest ache. He was supposed to protect him from that. "I don't know what they did to him, and I don't know how long it'll be until he's better. You're…" He paused, trying to find the right word for the fallen angel. "You're hurting, obviously. And I can't fix it. I'm sorry." He finished in a low voice, finally raising his eyes to meet his friend's.

Cas stared at him for a moment, their gazes locked, before the ex-angel slowly blinked sad eyes and shook his head, irritation present on his own face. "You do this often."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Do what?" he questioned curiously, wondering if he should be offended.

"Blame yourself unnecessarily," Cas clarified. "You're not responsible for all the pain in this world, Dean. You're one man, and you've done all that you can. You've done more than enough."

Dean swallowed, looking down at his hands currently twisting in his lap. He was touched that Cas thought so highly of him, but he didn't deserve it. "I haven't done my job," he argued, his jaw clenched with anger and shame. "I'm supposed to protect the people that I care about, Cas. I'm supposed to protect Sam. I'm supposed to protect you. I should have helped you out, man. I…" He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head slightly as his guilt got the best of him. "I know we haven't been on the best of terms these past couple weeks," he admitted, recalling his anger over Cas' handling of the situation with the angel tablet. "But I never wanted something like this to happen to you. I should have found a way to help you."

When Cas' eyes landed on him this time they didn't look away, forcing Dean to turn and meet them. The former angel's eyes were soft, and his face had taken on a gentle expression. Dean thought he saw a small smile tug at the edge of the man's features, though he wasn't sure why it would be there.

"Dean, it has never been your job to protect me," he said, conviction in his tone. "It's always been mine to protect you."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, to argue that he didn't need anyone to protect him, but Cas cut him off.

"Just listen," he pleaded, and there was something in his eyes that compelled Dean to shut his mouth. The man gazed at him for a moment without speaking, willing him to pay attention, and Dean felt his curiosity growing. Finally, Cas continued. "Before Heaven became the Hell that it is now, it was a beautiful place, Dean. Especially for an angel," he said. "It was organized chaos. And really, it wasn't so different from here. We had families, just like humans do. We were social in our own way. And we had jobs that we took very seriously, just as you do."

Dean nodded, intrigued. This was the most Cas had ever told him about what it was like to live as an angel, and he couldn't deny that he'd been curious.

"Heaven had no way of knowing the precise actions that every human would take in their lifetime. We weren't able to determine exactly how each of you would affect the future, though we would get glimpses now and again." Dean ignored the way that Cas slipped into referring to himself as an angel. It was habit, after all, and it would take all of them some time to adjust. And he tried to ignore the way that Cas talked about Heaven in the past tense as if it no longer existed, but he understood. They had no way of knowing what the situation was like up there. As far as they knew, there _wasn't _a Heaven. Not anymore. Dean pulled himself out of his dark thoughts and focused his attention back on Cas' voice.

"But there were some humans to whom we felt a strong connection, for one reason or another," Cas explained. "Some who we knew were needed on Earth to promote the greater good, and who would eventually be needed in Heaven. That connection allowed us to sense more about them than about others, and those people were given a guardian. An angel to protect them at all costs." Cas turned to look at him, a fondness in his gaze that Dean wasn't prepared for. "You see, Dean, my job was given to me about 35 years ago—the day that my brother came to me and told me to protect the Righteous Man."

Dean felt his heart jump, completely unprepared for the words that just left his friend's mouth. That title… The Righteous Man. He'd heard that before. He'd been _called _that before.

"I wasn't lying when I said that we have a profound bond, Dean. I've been watching over you for a long time. Since before you were born." He smiled softly, an unfamiliar expression on his ever-stoic features. "You were a handful as a toddler. You liked to run into the street and climb trees that were much too tall for you. Your parents hated it," he admitted, and Dean found himself smirking around the stupid lump in his throat. "But they didn't need to worry," Cas said. "I was always there to catch you." There was a hint of pride in his voice, and his smile had widened. "I watched you grow into the skilled hunter that you are. However, as you got older, there were limitations. I learned that I wasn't allowed to interfere every time you were in danger. Heaven wanted to ensure that humans have free will," he explained. "You had to learn on your own, and make your own choices. I only stepped in when things became perilous. I helped to heal your injuries when I could, and watched over you when I couldn't." Then, suddenly, Cas' face fell. "And there were some things that I couldn't stop, even if I'd wanted to," he admitted sadly. "Your mother's death, for one. Your father's, for another." He shook his head, looking at Dean with guilt. "I couldn't prevent you from going to Hell, because you did that for Sam. Believe me when I say I wanted nothing more than to spare you that. But I was watching over you there, as well. You were my responsibility, and I got you out as soon as I could. That seemed to be the best time to reveal myself."

Dean stared at Cas as he spoke, unable to look away. Cas had been there the whole time. Had been looking out for him since he was a baby. His mom hadn't been lying, then. Every night when she tucked him in and told him that angels were watching over him, she'd been telling the truth. Had she known somehow? That was a thought that he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around.

Finally, he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady after being bombarded with so much information. "So, you're telling me that guardian angels exist? That you…?"

Cas nodded. "Yes, they exist for some. And I'm yours." He then clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground. "Or I was, until I fell. Now I don't know what I am. I no longer have the powers of a guardian." He sighed deeply, twisting his hands in his lap. "I understand that you feel helpless when it comes to caring for the people you love," he said, looking at Dean. "You're upset because you feel that you didn't do your job. I'm upset because I feel as though I haven't done mine. Not for the past few years. And now I don't know if I can protect you at all, Dean. Not in the way that I used to."

Dean let out a long breath, still absorbing everything he'd learned. Finally, he spoke the first words that came to mind. "I guess I owe you one hell of a thank you," he said, cocking an eyebrow when Cas gave him a surprised look. "You got me here, man. Somehow I don't think I would have made it this far if it wasn't for you."

Cas shrugged. "You didn't make it easy," he agreed. "But in all honesty, it was a privilege to be assigned to you, Dean," he said sincerely. "You have a good heart, and you've done more for this world than you'll ever realize, my friend. I assure you that I'll do my best to keep you safe even now, despite my limitations."

Dean swallowed and nodded, surprised at just how good it felt to hear those words. Knowing that there was someone in your corner was huge in their line of work. "Thanks, Cas. But it's a two-way street," he added seriously. "We look out for each other, okay? You've got my back and I've got yours. Deal?"

Cas nodded. "Yes," he agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer and then Dean pushed himself to his feet, clapping his hands together. He was eager to get out of the stifling room and into some place less weighted down with emotion. "Look, I don't care if you're not hungry," he said, turning to his friend. "You're gonna eat something, even if I have to shove it down your throat, all right?"

Cas crinkled his nose. "That sounds uncomfortable."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, for you and me both, pal. Come on."

As they exited the room and headed toward the kitchen, Dean gave in to the sudden urge to clasp his hand onto Cas' shoulder, squeezing tightly in a silent gesture of thanks and support. He may not have been able to prevent Cas' fall from grace, but there was a whole lot he could do to help him adjust to his newfound humanity. There was a long road ahead, he knew, what with Metatron and Abaddon on the loose, but it wouldn't be so bad if they were in it together. He still had a chance to make things right.

He smirked to himself, confidence growing with each long stride. He turned his gaze toward the stone ceiling, hoping that Metatron could hear him, wherever he was. _You'd better run, you son of a bitch,_ he thought, directing his anger towards the heavens. _Dean Winchester's on your ass. _Nobody messes with his guardian angel and gets away with it. Nobody.

**I'd love it if you let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading! **


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